


Touching To See

by Riddle_Me_This_Darling



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Blindness, Friendship, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Unknown-Two-Sided-Crush, face-touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-05 01:53:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11567865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riddle_Me_This_Darling/pseuds/Riddle_Me_This_Darling
Summary: Edward is curious to know what Corporal Barrow looks like, so Barrow allows him to feel his face.





	1. Curiosity

**Author's Note:**

> I've returned to AO3 to find that sweet Edward is very popular at the moment!  
> What's going on? Not that I'm unhappy to see the resurgence. It seemed as though Edward kind of disappeared from most Thomas fanfictions for a little while, now he's a main focus in a few of the newest stories.  
> Hurray! More love for Edward. I'm glad.
> 
> Edward/Thomas is probably my number 1 Downton OTP.
> 
> This story is in no way original. I think I've read a few fanfictions that have Edward feeling Thomas's face to see what he looks like. I'm sure I have.  
> What else can he do?
> 
> Just a note on the way I've written this:  
> If the sentences seem a little brief and broken, they're meant to be. I've tried to write this as though we're reading Edward's thoughts.  
> That's why the paragraphs are short and seen a bit 'off'.
> 
> I was somewhat inspired by a book called 'Cove' by Cynan Jones.  
> He's an underrated author.  
> It's a very quick read but trust me, it draws you in. I read it in about an hour.  
> A man finds himself lost at sea with few memories of how he got there. There are a few other narrators. To coincide with the main narrators thoughts, the way Cynan writes is lyrical and very broken, but still incredibly descriptive.  
> Look ur up. It's a work of art.

He couldn't see but he knew it was a beautiful day.

Birds were chirping in the swaying treetops; he could hear their sweet songs among the rustling of swaying branches. A warm breeze ghosted over his body, heating his face and chest. His thick uniform was uncomfortably hot and he missed his cooler pyjamas, but he had been told that he had to exercise, build his strength up. His body was still weak, apparently. He knew it was true. It was exhausting simply to walk.

Small stones crunched beneath his feet. At his side, Corporal Barrow was humming an unfamiliar tune. It wasn't irritating.

His knees buckled.

"Can we stop for a moment?" He asked, grasping Barrow's arm harder. Pain was coursing through his leg, shooting down to his foot.

"Yes, of course," the corporal replied.

He was steered left. They were close to the bench near the hospital entrance. He could tell by the smell. He didn't want to sit there, he wanted to rest further away from the other doctors and nurses, their praying eyes.

"Are we near the front door?" He asked quietly, afraid to be overheard. He wanted his whereabouts clarified as he still didn't place full confidence in his hearing and sense of smell.

Barrow didn't lower his own tone.

"Yes," he said, quite loudly. "Do you want to go back inside?"

Edward sighed and felt his right leg twitch. It was hard for others to understand him, he knew this. He only would allow Barrow, Dr Clarkson and sweet nurse Crawley near him for long periods of time. He didn't trust anyone else. He couldn't read them. The further away they were, the more distracted, the better.

He would need to sit down soon, however. Very soon, lest he fall over and embarrass himself. All this bumbling and tottering reminded him of his brother as a small child, stumbling over his first steps. Mother had been proud.

"Lieutenant Courtenay, would you like to go back inside?" Barrow repeated, finally speaking lowly. "You've managed a few turns around these flowerbeds so you've done well I today. I'd say it was enough exercise."

Edward wanted the ground to swallow him. Barrow was not trying to be patronising, but it was still horribly humiliating to feel so useless and vulnerable. Before the war, he had been a keen sportsman; strong, balanced and fit. No more.

His left knee twitched.

"Is there not anywhere else, Barrow? I'm afraid I won't be able to stand much longer."

He could picture Barrow blinking in confusion, or frowning. Perhaps his expression was blank. He wouldn't know.

Come to think of it, he had no idea what Barrow looked like to begin with.

"I'm not sure what you mean," the corporal said. His soft Northern accent was soothing. It was likely he hailed from the North West, Manchester perhaps.

Feeling a tad embarrassed, Edward replied, "I mean, I would like a little privacy, Barrow. I can't see it happening, but I constantly feel eyes on me. Other patients watch me. Doctors watch me. Nurses watch me. They all watch me but I can't see them. I don't know what they want."

"They're just worried, that's all," Barrow assured him mildly. "Nobody's ever looked at you funny if that's what concerns you."

"No," Edward sighed. He didn't know how else to explain his anxieties.

Barrow continued to lead him somewhere. It was unfamiliar territory. Edward trusted him.

"I know it's difficult for you," the corporal said quietly. "I can't begin to imagine what you're going through. I can't lie to you, I'd hate to lose my sight."

"I can't lie to you, I hate to have lost mine," Edward snapped. His harsh words stung even himself.

"I'm sorry," Barrow mumbled sadly. "I didn't -"

"No Barrow," Edward said apologetically, "I appreciate your honesty. The others treat me like a child and avoid delivering harsh truths. It makes me feel like a child. I despise it."

"I know you do," Barrow whispered. It seemed as though he was talking more to himself.

They were now walking on thick grass. It was harder to navigate through the longer strands. In places, the ground felt more uneven. There was a peculiar sweet smell, some sort of plant. A flower. The birds were louder. More trees rustled in the wind. The air somehow felt fresher, though this was likely a mind trick.

"Where are we, Barrow?"

"Back of the hospital, Lieutenant. There's a bench here. You can sit down. It's very private."

"How private?"

"We are hidden by a few trees. Nobody can see us from here. No eyes can watch you, except for mine of course."

"Good."

Barrow's voice suddenly sounded louder. He was nearer, standing to the left of Edward.

"Sir," the corporal said warily, "I'll leave you for a minute or two if you'd like some peace. So long as you promise to stay here, I'll go and sit further away, but I won't go too far."

Edward considered the kind offer. Rejected it.

"I wouldn't mind the company, Barrow. If you don't mind."

Something fluttered past him, a leaf or perhaps a butterfly. He waved his hand, shooing the offensive whatever-it-was away.

"Of course, sir," Barrow chirped.

The young corporal always seemed happy to be in his company. Edward didn't understand why.

It suddenly struck him. Barrow was his friend. He hadn't realised. The thought warmed him.

"Thank you, Barrow."

They sat together in silence. Barrow picked at something on his uniform. Then he scratched his skin. Then sniffed softly. A bee buzzed in the distance. A window slammed shut. Birds tweeted and flapped their wings. Somewhere to the right, Edward heard a twig snap.

Still, it was a peaceful spot. He liked it.

"Barrow?" He said suddenly, speaking without thought.

The corporal immediately replied, "Yes, sir?"

Edward wasn't sure what he wanted to ask. Scratched his knee. Then, suddenly, he did know. Of course. Curiosity got the better of him.

"Er - if I may be so bold, corporal, what do you look like?" He asked nervously. "We spend a lot of time together and I greatly appreciate your care. I'd like to put a face to your name, so to speak."

"Oh!" Said Barrow. "Of course. Well, I've got dark hair. It's black, actually. I'm tall."

"Yes, I know you're tall."

Barrow swallowed and continued, "I suppose you do, yes. Sorry. I'm pale. Always have been. People assumed I was sickly when I was a child. I wasn't, really. I was just pale."

Edward was surprised. He assumed that Barrow would be fair haired and tanned, like most working class men. Then again, he had told Edward that he had been a footman before the war, so be would have worked indoors most of the time.

"What colour are your eyes?" Edward asked. He pictured him with hazel eyes, more brown in their colour.

"Blue," said Barrow. "They're more grey. I don't really like them but my mother once said they were the colour of a winter's sky. That was nice of her. Other people think they look cold. I reckon they're right."

Edward was taken aback.

In his mind he repeated, "the colour of a winter's sky."

A bee flittered past them again.

"Tall, pale, blue eyed, black haired," he parroted, almost mockingly. "Is your mouth quite red?"

"Er," mumbled Barrow, "I suppose so. Someone once told me my lips looked painted on. I was teased for it at school by some older boys who kelt calling me a girl. Well, until I clocked their leader one day. Surprised myself!"

"I bet your handsome. Your description matches that of Snow White." Edward said distractedly. He was trying to picture the man. Were his features harsher or softer? Angular or plumper? Did he look mature or boyish?

Barrow tittered and shuffled his feet. The man was embarrassed.

"I suppose so," he said bashfully. "Well, I'm not bad looking. If some rich princess wanted to wake me up with a kiss and let me live in her castle, I wouldn't complain."

"Better than a hospital," Edward quipped.

"Too right," Barrow said happily. "I've had people tell me that I'm handsome, but I don't really think I'm anything wonderful. Definitely not a Snow White." He suddenly laughed. "More Dracula if anything! Still, I like to pretend I'm more confident than I am."

He trailed off, chuckling unconvincingly. It was clear Barrow had touched upon a sore spot and didn't want to elaborate. Edward believed he could understand why. When he heard Barrow going about the hospital, he sounded proud and clever, haughty even. He could even come across as being rather arrogant. When he and Barrow were alone, he seemed to lower his guard. His voice was softer, his words, gentler. He was more open, yet still somewhat vulnerable. He was relatable. Sweet even.

"You put up a front, don't you." Edward noted. He turned to face the corporal he couldn't see. "I understand this now."

"Don't we all?" Barrow muttered.

Edward thought for a moment. The sound of distant chatter carried through the air, followed by laughter. The voices were far away.

"Yes, he said eventually. "I suppose we do, Barrow."

The corporal said nothing. Edward said nothing. They sat in silence again.

Until Edward couldn't stop himself from babbling.

"Barrow, I overheard a nurse discussing a particular technique that blind people can use to, I don't know, see, I suppose. I've heard of people doing this but as I had always had my sight, I never considered it. She was advising another patient to feel his sister's face so that he could memorise her features and paint an image of her in his mind. From what I overheard, it worked. People use it in novels - characters. I've heard -"

"Do you want to feel my face?" Barrow interrupted, his tone laced with amusement. His words sounded like a smirk.

Edward opened and closed his mouth like a goldfish before eventually replying, "Well, er...yes. If you wouldn't mind. I'm curious to know what you look like. If it would make you uncomfortable, please don't feel you have to! I'm just curious."

"Here," Barrow said gently before he carefully took hold of Edward's hands.

Edward flinched at the touch.

"Do you mind?" Barrow asked. "I'm just guiding your hands to my face."

"Of course, please do," Edward encouraged.

It was silly but he began to shake. A particularly loud bird tweeted obnoxiously. He swore the creature was mocking him.

He gasped when his fingertips suddenly made contact with warm, smooth skin. Barrow released his hands and for a moment, they were still. Neither man moved.

It took Edward a few seconds to garner the courage to trace along the corporal's cheeks with his fingers. His hands were now very shaky and uncoordinated as they clumsily tapped against sharp cheekbones.

"This is odd," remarked Barrow. "I don't feel uncomfortable though! It's just not something people do everyday."

Silently, Edward agreed.

Barrow's skin was very smooth to touch. He had either shaved that morning or he was younger than Edward initially believed.

"You have good skin," he told the corporal.

Barrow laughed. Edward felt his cheeks move. The skin warmed beneath his fingers.

"Thank you, sir."

Edward smiled. It was forced. He was very nervous.

When Barrow stilled, he carefully trailed his fingers upwards until he found the man's eyes and forehead. Long lashes fluttered against his fingers.

"Your forehead is quite small," Edward noted matter-of-factly before swallowing. "I can feel your eyelashes."

"They're quite long," said Barrow.

"How lucky for you," Edward replied, not unkindly. "You have tidy eyebrows."

To his surprise, Barrow cracked up laughing and tilted backwards. Edward's hands floated in the air momentarily, until Barrow returned to his original position. Edward's hands collided with the corporal's nose.

"Tidy eyebrows!" Barrow chuckled.

"Well, yes," Edward muttered, a little irritated. "It's not a bad thing, is it?

"No," Barrow snickered. "It isn't. So, what's my nose like?"

"Somewhat small."

"Alright," Barrow snorted, amused by Edward's deadpan voice.

Edward huffed and moved his fingers downwards, flinching when they brushed over Barrow's lips. He froze. His hands shook more.

"Can you picture me now?" Barrow asked. To Edward's relief he didn't sound too embarrassed.

"I think so," Edward said, shrugging his shoulders a little. "You seem to have rather sharp features."

"Hmm, I suppose I do, yes." Barrow agreed.

Edward withdrew his hands. He could still feel the touch of Barrow's lips on his fingers. Softer skin.

"I'd like to go inside now, Barrow," he said hurriedly. His right leg was twitching.

"Of course. Here, take my arm. Careful when you stand, sir."

"I know, Barrow. Thank you."


	2. Confirmation

It was dark. He had fallen asleep earlier, now it was night. He could smell burnt candle wick. Patients were sniffling around him. A couple of nurses were whispering to one another a few beds away. A doctor was advising someone else to go to sleep before walking away. Their footsteps were heavy. The rest of the patients seemed to be a asleep.

"I'm sad the new Doctor will be leaving us," whispered one of the nurses. "Which hospital is he returning to?"

"He's going back to York, I think." Said the other woman. "He was handsome, wasn't he?"

"Very!" Giggled the first nurse. "Still, at least we have Corporal Barrow."

"Shh!" Hissed the second nurse before giggling. "I wish he would talk to us more. He's always working."

"He's always with nurse Crawley, or Lieutenant Courtenay over there."

"Poor man, he's doing so well, isn't he? After everything he's been through, he rarely complains."

Edward wished he could kindly ask the nurse to be quiet.

"He's a dear," the other nurse said fondly.

The women then walked away, their light footsteps fading into silence. Edward loathed the sounds made by their shoes. The clicks of their heels annoyed him.

He sunk into his pillow, wincing when his head knocked against the bed frame.

So it was true: Barrow was handsome. Tall and pale, black haired and blue eyed, and handsome. Soft mouthed. Gentle. Strong, yet strangely delicate and smooth to touch.

He was probably beautiful, if men could be beautiful.

Content, Edward slept.

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't perfect. Far from it.  
> Fanfiction is a hobby for me and unfortunately I don't have much time to keep correcting and re-writing my work.
> 
> I could do so much better if I kept pushing took more time, but it's exhausting and I just want to share the things I write, even though they aren't perfect.  
> Sorry if I'm disappointing anyone. The are some fantastic authors on here who devote so much time to their work.
> 
> I'm just lazy. I should work harder. But it's a hobby.
> 
> I don't know. I'm being annoying.  
> Time management, what even are you?
> 
> I'll work harder in future.
> 
> Thank you for taking the time to read this regardless!  
> I really appreciate it from the bottom of my heart. Thank you.


End file.
